


The Only Easy Way Is Up

by hudson



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bondage, F/M, Kinks, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-31
Updated: 2011-05-31
Packaged: 2017-10-19 22:56:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/206118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hudson/pseuds/hudson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam’s been gone for three months and it gets a little harder to breathe with each day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Only Easy Way Is Up

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LiveJournal on 1-3-2008.

**Title:** The Only Easy Way Is Up  
 **Pairing/Characters:** Sam/Dean  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Summary:** Sam’s been gone for three months and it gets a little harder to breathe with each day.   
**Word Count:** 5,736  
 **Warning:** References to underage sex, very mild kink, not too graphic het.  
 **Spoilers:** Nothing past the beginning of Season 1.  
 **Disclaimer:** Eric Kripke and a whole lot of other people who aren't me own Supernatural.  
 **A/N:** Written for tru_faith_lost, who asked for: _Separation and reunion fic. Can be pre-series or future fic.(happy ending, please)_ and _Dean has a secret from while Sam was at Stanford (not a kid or a wife)_. I did a little bit of both.   
Thanks very much to jewels667 and aeroport_art for the beta.

-

In Tulsa he lets a woman tie him up.

Her name is Jessie (though for some reason he keeps calling her Jamie. Fortunately she just laughs lightly when he does so) and they go on a few dates – actual, real, serious dates – before she pulls him by the collar up the steps to her apartment and whispers in his ear, asking him what he likes to do.

He’s never before really put much thought into anything kinky or hardcore or in any way really out of the ordinary – he’s watched his share of porn and talked his share of dirty, but he’s never really been that picky when it comes to sex, and frankly, it’s just never come up before. So he just smiles a bit and shrugs, whispers back, “Whatever you got, baby,” not really expecting much from the girl who flirted shamelessly with him at the bar days ago but insisted on actually getting to know him before letting him into her bed.

And it’s not like he gave up any actual information about himself, or like he’s actually had to work all that hard on her, but still. A guy can get frustrated, especially when he’s running on a deadline (“Gotta go follow a lead out in Toledo,” Dad said. “Meet me out there next week,” and then he was gone.) Her looks alone make it worth it, though, so he’s acted the part of a gentleman and taken her to dinner, to the movies, on a drive around town in his classic car, one that even girls who know nothing about cars adore.

So he’s a bit surprised when she smiles confidently and pulls a scarf out of her closet to brandish before his eyes. His mind stops short at that, but he doesn’t let his smile falter. He wants to say no, wants to tell her to back off a bit, wants to say that they hardly know each other (and he’d probably even mean it if he did).

Actually, what he really wants to do is turn her around and push her down onto the bed, kneel behind her and fuck the idea of bondage out of her mind.

Instead, he lets her take him by the wrists and lay him down on the bed, and he breathes deeply through his mouth to calm himself down. It’s not even close to the first time he’s had sex (and the idea that it is is pretty laughable), but it is the first time he’s ever let someone lean over him, bind him, take complete charge of him, and he’s ashamed of how his body starts shaking as she knots the scarves into place. She grins down at him, all teeth and thin lips, and he’s pretty sure she thinks his shaking is a result of his excitement.

She turns her back on him to pull off her blouse and that’s when he starts to full on panic and pulls frantically at his bonds. His father has taught him better than this, better than to let some woman, some stranger, immobilize him. She could be anyone, any _thing,_ and he’s just lying here, preparing to just let her take from him anything she wants.

Whether she’s a demon or just some random girl from a nameless little bar in Oklahoma, that’s just not okay.

He grits his teeth and his arms pull almost unconsciously at the scarves, and he’s surprised to find that the knots immediately loosen up. He cranes his neck to see and blinks for a moment, then quickly moves his wrists closer together, crossing them over one another so that Jamie – _Jessie_ – Jessie won’t see when she turns back to him. He gives her a winning smile and looks her up and down, pretends that things are just fine and dandy as she crawls up the bed towards him. And it turns out that being tied up in bed isn’t so bad – so long as he knows he can get out of his bonds as quickly as he needs to.

A few hours later he leaves her deeply asleep and apparently pretty satisfied, and wonder of wonders, he’s pretty satisfied himself.

He leaves town the next morning and blocks Jessie’s number from his phone after her third call.

-

He tries calling Sam from Nebraska. He listens to the phone ring four times on the other end before he tells himself that Sammy’s probably too busy, probably not that interested in hearing about the poltergeist Dean dispatched all by himself, tells himself that it’s not fear that forces him to hang up.

He flirts with the waitress who offers him up a free soda and a smile at the diner down the road and then slaps her ass as he he fucks her up against the wall in the bathroom, her legs wrapped around his waist and head thrown back against the wall. He tries not to go too hard, but then he thinks of Sam, happy and relaxed at school without him, and all he wants to do is bury his desperation inside of her.

-

In Waco he leaves Dad sitting in their motel room going over notes in his journal and drives to the first little dive of a bar he spots. That’s where he meets Annie (or Allie or Abby or something else with an A), and after about an hour they go back out to his car. After about another hour (because she likes to take her time, or so she says) they stop fooling around and get to the good stuff. She says that she wants to turn him over her knee, and he’s not too sure about that, but the last time he was wary about something like this it turned out okay, so he lets her spank him.

And by the end, when she’s cooing at him and he’s grunting with the effort to keep everything in him from spilling out, he finally lets himself feel it, and he cries out as the pain from her hand shoot right up his spine and forces tears from his eyes. Her touch turns gentle then, and somehow it still hurts, because it’s not Sammy’s, and god help him, that’s all he wants in the world right now.

Sam’s been gone for three months and it gets a little harder to breathe with each day.

Annie or Allie or Abby kisses him, pushes her tongue into Dean’s mouth and he sucks on it greedily as the few tears he let fall dry on his face before pushing into her. He wants to force from her what she’s forced out of him, but he doesn’t think it’ll be the same.

Afterwards she slips him her phone number and winks at him before heading back into the bar. He drives for a while, rolls down the window and lets the cool air filter through the car and doesn’t think about much. When his phone rings and he picks it up to hear his father’s placid voice telling him that it’s time to finish up and get back to the motel, he nods along automatically, turns the car around, and lets the piece of paper with Annie or Allie or Abby’s number slip through his fingers out the open window and into the nighttime wind.

-

He wonders sometimes what his mother would think of him if she were still alive. He wonders sometimes if he’d even be the same person he is now if she had never died. A woman in Arizona gives him a disgusted look when he leers a bit too long, and a girl slaps him in a bar in Florida when he doesn’t quite get that her repeated rejections of him are serious instead of some hard-to-get routine. And those aren’t even the times when he feels his lowest.

He wonders if his mother would be disgusted with him. He likes to think that he remembers everything about her, but in reality his memories of her are fuzzy even on the best of days, and his father is very rarely willing to talk about her with anything more than a tense mention in passing. Even more rarely now that Sam is gone.

But he likes to think of her as strong. Kind and intelligent - almost saintly he realizes sometimes, the way he thinks of her. Respectful and deserving of respect. Completely unwilling to put up with being used in the way that he uses women.

It always makes him queasy when he realizes that she’d probably hate the man he’s become. But it doesn’t make him stop.

-

Jen in Worcester ties him down when he asks her to.

He fought with Sam over the phone mere hours ago; clenched his fist and dug his nails into his palm as Sam told him angrily that he didn’t care whether the abandoned hospital was haunted, on fire, or under water – he has finals this week, and he’s not flying across the country on a moment’s notice. Dean listened to the tone in his brother’s voice, listened to Sam say _I’m not flying across the country on a moment’s notice **for you**_ without actually saying it, and he his phone breaks apart when he throws it into the street. Then he heads for a bar and plunks himself down on a barstool next to the first woman he spots, gives her a smile that is all shyness and coy, and lets her take him to her house.

She’s exactly what he wants tonight, all soft skin and long hair and everything that Sam isn’t in a million different ways, and willing to take charge in the way that he doesn’t fully realize he wants.

She’s more serious about tying him down than the last one was, pulling out a set of handcuffs and dangling them from her fingers in front of him. He smiles, allows her to think that she’s got complete control over him. But he’s been getting in and out of handcuffs since he was eight, and these are a pretty puny set.

He lets her set the pace, lets her climb all over him, lets her hurt him just a little bit, and lets himself go, but not too much. Not completely. She sucks him off after she’s taken her fill of him and his orgasm is less than thrilling, but he lets her think she’s rocked his world (actually uses those words, in fact, as she cuddles in next to him a few minutes later and reaches up to undo the handcuffs).

He’s out the door a short while later and drives around in search of a motel for a while before he opens up his wallet and realizes that there’s only a handful of singles inside. He ends up pulled off into an alleyway, curled up in the backseat of he car.

It’s been months – almost half a year now – since Sammy has set foot inside this car, but Dean swears that he can smell his brother on the seats and pushes his nose into the worn leather as he touches himself. His chest clenches when he thinks of Sam, thinks of the last time they fucked in here before Sam went to college, and wonders if that’s why his brother left. He grips his cock hard and pumps it furiously until he comes with a frantic cry, the first letter of Sam’s name on his lips and unable to speak the rest of it. He nearly passes out from exhaustion a few minutes later and tries to tell himself that he’s not lonely when he wakes the next morning and realizes that Sammy’s still gone.

-

Sam doesn’t call him on his birthday, and it’s the first one that Dean can remember spending without his brother. Last year Sam crawled under the covers with him hours before their father would wake and licked a line up Dean’s shoulder blade, around his jaw, under his ear and up the side of his face until Dean had woken up, then grinned down at him and brushed his lips over Dean’s. They’d rolled together and rubbed against one another languidly, kissed and touched until they heard their father stirring elsewhere in the house.

The memory is tainted now that Dean realizes that Sam probably knew then, as he was sucking a bruise into Dean’s collarbone, that he would be leaving them, but waited months to say anything about it.

Dean stares at the phone on this birthday, his twenty-third. Caleb calls him early in the day, and he skips a call from Pastor Jim, feeling a too little guilty. His father buys a small chocolate cake with frosting that is way too sweet, even has the bakery write his name on it, and Dean nods and smiles, pretends that it’s perfect and this is a great birthday because he knows that Dad has noticed how badly he’s been missing Sam and he’s tired of the encouraging _he’ll be back, son. Once he comes to his senses, he’ll be back_ that Dad often throws out without much conviction.

They both know that Sam isn’t coming back to them.

Dean goes out late in the evening, when the last few hours of his birthday are winding down, and waits for Sam to call. When he doesn’t, Dean finds a busy gay club, picks out a guy dancing in the middle of the room wearing black leather pants and a deep red shirt and whispers in his ear, “hurt me.”

So the guy does, and it’s just what he wanted. When Dean goes out to his car later, rubbing at the bruises the other man left across his shoulders, he finds his phone where he’d left it on the passenger seat with a blinking red light telling him that he has a missed call from Sam and a new voicemail.

He tries in vain to blink back his tears.

-

By the end of Sam’s sophomore year in college Dean can count on one hand the number of times they’ve spoken face to face, and it cuts like a knife straight through his gut when Sam tells him that maybe it’s time for Dean to go, he really needs to get back to the paper he’s writing, and isn’t Dad wondering where Dean is anyway? It’s the last time they see each other for a year.

They speak by phone less and less these days, Dean leaving vague messages every so often just to tell his brother where they are – mostly, though, to taunt Sam with his presence: _I’m here, I’m this far from where you are, I won’t bug you too much but I’m still alive and you can talk to me if you want_ – and Sam does the same, calling at odd times when he probably knows that Dean will be asleep or out and leaves him messages about his grades or his new job or the apartment he’s getting. He never mentions Jessica, but Dean has seen her and Dad has mentioned seeing them together and Dean sometimes prods viciously at Sam about whether he’s seeing anyone, noting that yeah, guess no one can top his big brother when Sam doesn’t reply.

-

Sally, an ad-exec he meets at a Starbucks in Jersey, leads him down to her basement several hours after they meet and it only takes one look at the leather, chains, whips, crops, and other accessories for him to fake a cough and run for his car.

That’s just too much, even for him. Especially for him.

-

In Lafayette he lets a man – Hank, picked up with a few pointed looks and a nudge of the shoulder at a pool hall – hold him down and fuck him into the dirty mattress at the local Motel 6. He bites at the back of Dean’s neck and grips Dean’s wrists uncomfortably, and once Dean is able to test the man’s strength – pushes up experimentally and finds that Hank’s muscles are no match for Dean’s training, and that he’d be able to get out from under the other man in about half a second – he settles in and lets the sharp pain provided by Hank’s teeth and the tense pressure on his wrists and his back and his ass wash through him along with the intense pleasure that comes with being well fucked.

He wonders if he should stick to men only from now on, as they’re less likely to expect a phone call or some kind of continued contact after they fuck.

Plus, he likes the muscle.

-

It’s jarring at first when Sam returns. Dean is too busy trying to find their father, too concerned with Sam’s grief, and too afraid of being happy to be really grateful for his brother’s return. Some days he tries to act like no time has passed at all, and some days he’s afraid to speak to Sam (and with good reason, as Sam’s moods become so volatile that he’ll just as soon bite Dean’s head off as laugh with him).

He flirts with a waitress in Wisconsin and it’s looking pretty good, looking pretty likely that he’ll be able to get into that back room with her for a few minutes, when Sam breaks things up and Dean’s mood is immediately spoiled. It’s been weeks since he’s had any time alone; any longer and the rapidly building pressure is going to kill him.

It would be easy to take comfort in Sam’s return, to let his happiness at having his brother near break through, if not for the sudden loss of his father and the constant feeling that Sam would rather be anywhere other than by Dean’s side, and that he could leave at a moment’s notice. Dean finds himself watching Sam some nights as his brother sleeps in the bed beside his or while he dozes in the passenger’s seat of the car – he realizes how hopelessly lame and puppyish his behavior is, but he does it often without realizing and after a few weeks comes to find that it’s the only way he can feel truly comfortable in Sam’s presence, without the lingering threat of Sam’s absence looming over his head.

If they do ever kill the yellow-eyed demon, it’ll be a bittersweet victory for Dean, as the last connection he shares with his brother will vanish. He spends many hours while Sam is asleep thinking about which option is worse.

-

They argue a lot. No more than they did before, but more than Dean ever did with Dad, and it’s hard to remember the bad times with Sam when they were kids – Sam’s whole world probably felt small and useless and miserable when he was growing up, while Dean’s felt important, comforting, perfect, and safe. Loving. He remembers yelling, but not much of the details, and to have that be such a constant for him now is strange and uncomfortable.

They disagree often. That leads to the arguing.

They don’t know much about each other anymore. Sam underestimates Dean’s strength and intelligence. Dean can’t begin to understand Sam’s draw towards stability and structure (at least, what normal people consider stability. Dean tends to find his own life perfectly stable with all of its constant unpredictability), or his instinct for knowledge before action.

Sam is a lot bigger than Dean remembers him being.

Dean shows off the EMF reader he made, lets a little genuine pride out there into the world, and Sam’s grin holds more mockery than awe. That hurts. He gets Sam back by reminding him constantly that his big, bad college degree wouldn’t serve any purpose in this world. He digs in his claws and teases Sam about being such a dorky brainiac, and watches with a sick feeling in his stomach when Sam’s face tightens.

He also wipes demon residue on Sam’s back when Sam isn’t looking.

They learn about each other. Relearn each other. Dean catches Sam nodding along with Clapton for several songs before Sam realizes he’s being watched and turns red, his head suddenly becoming motionless. Sam studies Dean each time Dean lets go of some bit of information that he’s previously held tightly inside of him. Dean admires Sam’s ability (and desire) to spend long hours pouring over research, putting together puzzles, working out obscure facts. Sam laughs at Dean’s jokes. They make up new jokes together and begin to work each other out

By January Dean no longer has to glace over while holding a shotgun full of rock salt on a pale gray ghost to assure himself that his brother is standing right there with him.

-

He finds some relief in Albuquerque, in the form of Matt, a cop. And normally Dean stays as far away from cops as possible, but when Matt pulls him over on his way back from getting dinner for himself and Sam, tells Dean that one of his taillights is flickering a bit, they get to talking about the Impala, and wouldn’t you know it? Matt’s a car guy.

He’s also a gay guy, a bit of a dominant guy, and a bit reckless too, willing to ditch the job for an hour in order to indulge Dean (and himself too, probably). Dean leads him to an empty truck stop and lets Matt play Bad Cop, cuff Dean’s hands behind his back and push him facedown into the backseat of the squad car. Matt pushes into him hard and without much preamble, leans down every so often to whisper something dark and dirty into Dean’s ear, and Dean’s release washes through him a short while later, so heavy that he grunts and shakes with it.

He doesn’t tell Sam why he’s late getting back with dinner.

-

It hurts sometimes to have Sammy so near and not be able to touch him like he really wants to, and it makes Dean shy away from any physical contact between them (aside from the times when Sam is hurt or in trouble and Dean can’t stop himself from grabbing his brother and digging his fingers in to reassure himself that Sam is okay, still right there with him).

But most days just having Sam around him is enough. He’s pretty sure that he can live for as long as he needs to with just being able to look at, talk to, joke with his brother.

-

Dean decides to celebrate his twenty-seventh birthday in style – he tells Sam that he’s going to a bar to play a few rounds of poker, leaves his brother staring after him with a bit of a confused expression on his face, and heads instead for dark underground club illuminated by purple lights and fake, plastic candles on the walls. He finds two girls who claim to be sisters – though the vast difference in complexions and hair color make him doubtful – and tells them that it’s his birthday, lets them buy round after round of tequila shots and get him good and drunk before going back to their apartment.

Dean found out long ago that two is always better than one, and that goes double when it comes to sex. He lies flat on his back while one girl (he doesn’t even bother trying to commit their names to memory. He’ll forget all about them soon enough) rides him and the other alternates between sucking on his tongue and pushing her boobs into his face. He doesn’t have to do much but lie there – he is the birthday boy after all, and this is pretty much every straight (or sraightish) guy’s fantasy come to life.

But then there’s Sammy. Even with a stranger’s tongue winding warm and wet though his ear, the bastard keep creeping his way into Dean’s consciousness, with his floppy hair and reserved smile, and _fuck,_ it’s not supposed to be this way.

The girl on top of him is grinding harder, moving herself faster now; sounds like she’s getting close, and Dean’s going nowhere. He’s got a maddening amount of tension built up inside him now, and he flips her over to try and fuck some of it away.

The other girl plasters herself against his back and suddenly it’s too hot, too congested in this room. He pounds harder into the girl below him.

“Careful, man,” the girl behind him says, though it takes a minute for the words to break through to him.

He turns to look at her, mumbles, “Huh?”

Her face turns serious as dark strands of hair fall into her eyes. “Not everyone likes it that hard, y’know.”

He blinks at her, looks back at the other girl still lying pliant beneath him, though her hands have gone stiff on his shoulders. And he freaks out a little at that.

“Sorry, m’sorry.” He pulls out immediately, starts to get up, feels a little sick to his stomach. He’s completely lost touch with what he really wants.

“It’s okay, man,” one or the other says. They both reach over to stop him, push him and pull him back down onto the bed. “Just relax a little, let us take care ‘a you.”

The last few words are purred into his ear, and he does. Tries to, anyway. They take turns sucking him off and he pretty much zones out at that point, letting his mind drift off to those last few times with Sam before his brother left. Probably the only reason he even comes is because he closes his eyes, threads his fingers through one of the girls’ hair, and lets himself pretend that it’s Sam, even though it really, really isn’t.

He drives around for a few hours afterward, tries to get rid of the edgy, unsatisfied feeling in his chest. There’s a heavy weight inside him and at one particularly selfish moment he wishes that Sam would just go ahead and leave already.

It’s late when he gets back to the motel, and he enters quietly, expecting Sam to be asleep.

Instead, Sam’s angry voice greets him before the door is even fully open.

“Where the hell have you been?” Sam’s tone has that deep hollowness to it that he gets only when he’s really angry. It never fails to make Dean cringe.

“Out. I told you – ”

“You told me you were going to play cards!” Sam interrupts furiously.

Dean blinks at him. “…Yeah?”

Sam stares at Dean for a moment, as if waiting for Dean to figure something out.

“Dean, you’ve been gone six hours,” he says finally.

Dean shrugs at that, tries to brush him off.

“Jesus, Sammy, if it’s got your panties in such a bunch, you coulda just called me.”

“I did.”

“Oh.” Dean stops short, but only for a moment. “Well c’mon, you knew I was fine.”

“Yeah?” Sam folds his arms across his chest. “How would I know that?”

Dean turns to give his brother a winning smile. “Because I’m always fine.”

Sam rolls his eyes and clenches his jaw. Dean’s ready for this conversation to be over. Really ready to get some sleep. He begins peeling off layers of clothes and tries to head towards the bathroom, but Sam steps into his path.

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I wanted – ” Sam starts and then stops himself, turns a bit red at whatever he almost let spill, and Dean wonders what – that Sam had wanted to hang out with him on his birthday?

That thought really hadn’t occurred to him, actually.

“Sam…” Dean begins, unsure of what he means to say.

“Fuck you,” Sam says, his eyes hard and stern, and kisses Dean.

It takes Dean an embarrassingly long time to respond, his eyes and mouth hanging open in a dumbfounded expression while Sam presses against him. After a full minute or two Dean finally gets with the program and kisses back, lets his eyelids fall shut, and grabs Sam’s arms, desperate for something to hold on to, something to ground him because he’s sure this can’t really be happening.

Dean pushes a knee between Sam’s legs, cups one hand behind Sam’s head, sucks furiously at Sam’s lower lip, and Sam appears to be just about as frantic – his hands move restlessly over Dean’s face and his back and his chest, he pushes his tongue into Dean’s mouth and sweeps it across the roof and over Dean’s tongue, then pulls away just enough to press kisses across Dean’s chin and down to his neck.

“Sammy,” Dean breathes out, eyes still closed and his head tipped back to let Sam move across his skin. He doesn’t really want to say anything, afraid to ruin the moment and let Sam come to his senses and move away from him, but he can’t stop himself from letting just Sam’s name go.

Sam nods against Dean’s neck and sucks furiously at Dean’s adam’s apple before moving back up to his mouth. “Shhh,” he replies, and Dean doesn’t say anything else.

He doesn’t need to say much else, as Sam does enough talking for the both of them.

“Feel like I’ve wanted you my whole life,” he says as he pulls at the fly on Dean’s jeans. “Never stopped wanting you.”

He gets Dean’s jeans undone and yanks them down his legs. Dean steps out of them and then returns the favor, watching as Sam kicks off his shoes before helping him out of his pants. Sam returns immediately to Dean’s mouth and they breathe each other in for a moment.

Then Sam pulls back to draw Dean’s shirt up over his head and say, “I never wanted to leave you – don’t know why you think that I did, but I know you do, and it’s not – I _never_ wanted to leave you, _god,_ Dean.”

They get Sam’s shirt off together – Dean yanks it open, sends buttons flying across the room, and Sam shrugs it off and drops it to the floor, then grabs for Dean’s head again, and Dean meets him half way, moaning into the kiss. Sam’s hand clench in Dean’s hair, stroke over his ears, hold Dean’s head as Sam licks at Dean’s lips and speaks right against them.

“Dean, Dean, Dean,” he says, making Dean shiver at the neediness and desperation behind the words.

They tumble to the bed – it’s a good thing this room is small, or they’d probably just end up on the floor – and Dean breaks away, buries his face in Sam’s neck. He can’t look into his brother’s eyes when he speaks.

“You didn’t want – you told me to…” he swallows and can’t finish the sentence, can’t speak anymore in these stupid, broken sentences, and can’t face Sam’s explanation anyway.

Sam’s arms wind around Dean’s back, clutch at him fiercely, and one leg curls over Dean’s waist as well. Dean wants to stay here like this forever, wants to drown in his brother.

“It was too hard,” Sam whispers, like it takes all of his effort and strength to speak the words. It takes nearly all of Dean’s strength to listen to them. “It was too hard to see you only every so often – to see you and not be able to keep you.”

Dean nods, and he doesn’t feel childlike or silly in Sam’s arms. He kisses Sam’s neck, tastes his brother’s skin, and Sam thrusts his hips against Dean’s for a few minutes before moving down to kiss him. Sam’s whole body is vibrating, moving frantically again. Dean feels his own desperation take hold again as well, and it’s all he can do not to simply rub himself against Sam and get off quickly and easily.

They each pull their boxers away and Dean’s mouth goes dry at the sight of Sam’s cock. Sam rolls on top of Dean and presses down hard against him. Dean is struck once against by how huge Sam has grown in the last few years.

“I’m not leaving,” Sam breathes into Dean’s mouth. The idea hasn’t even occurred to Dean until now, and he goes suddenly rigid at the thought that maybe Sam is just giving this to him as some sort of consolation – _here, you can have me for the night because I’m taking off in the morning. Happy Birthday!_

Sam presses his lips into Dean’s again, more insistently. “I’m not leaving. Not going anywhere without you,” he says. Dean knows that he’d never dare say anything like this normally, knows that he’d never be able to hear it himself without mocking Sam for it. He closes his eyes when Sam rests his forehead against Dean’s.

“I’m not leaving again without you.”

They’re just words, just meaningless words, but Dean feels them in Sam’s skin and his back and his lips, and that means something.

Sam grabs Dean’s wrists, brings Dean’s arms up over his head and pins them to the bed, kisses him again and again and keeps speaking. He thrusts his cock against Dean’s and somehow a few minutes later, Sam is inside him.

Dean loses track of the words as Sam fucks him, but it doesn’t matter. Sam is there, on top of him, inside him, holding him down and bending him nearly in half in order to kiss him and breathe with him and Dean can’t handle how perfect it all is. He lets himself relax fully into Sam, lets Sam take control of everything, and it’s exactly what he needs.

He cries out when he comes, head jerking back and hands clenching into fists. His eyes are wide open but all he can see is blackness until suddenly Sam’s face comes into view, and he can feel Sam spilling inside of him. It’s too much, _too much;_ he doesn’t know how to deal with getting what he’s been longing for.

Sam kisses him. Dean brushes the hair out of Sam’s face, and Sam's smile is so naked and honest that Dean hurts from it.

He smiles back. Tries and fails to think of something quippy to say. Sam releases his arms and pulls out of him, collapsing down beside him. He falls asleep pretty quickly, and Dean tries to stay awake, but his eyelids are too heavy, his body is too satisfied, he’s too exhausted and content to bother watching Sam sleep. He drifts off a few minutes later.

When he wakes the next morning, Sam is still there beside him.

 **-end-**


End file.
